Roxy on the Road
by betteroffred
Summary: A Roxy fanfic done for Stormkpr's awesome Secret Santa project this past December! The premise as chosen by the story requester was basically 'a night on the town with Roxy, minus the other Misfits', so I decided to set this one on the road as Roxy's driv


This wasn't like those bars in L.A..

"Are you guys ready to rock!" I shouted at the crowd of drunk rednecks that filled the country-western bar. Dumb question, right? Wrong! The crowd went wild and I laughed. Who the hell knows what they were thinking, maybe they were betting on the drunk girl on stage making a total ass of herself as much as they really wanted to hear some music. Either way, I was about to give these turkeys a run for their money.

"Try and keep up!" I said with a smug look over my shoulder at the band. "The band" consisted of six out of work country session musicians trying to make ends meet doing twangy covers in this little po-dunk bar in the middle of nowhere Missouri. Correction-- there were only five guys in the band after I'd wrestled the guitar away from their bass player. Ain't nothing quite like a Misfit bum-rushing the stage, that's for damned sure!

I gotta hand it to the band, though, they did one hell of a job keeping pace with me. Ok, so they made "You Gotta Be Fast" sound a little like a sped up version of something the Judds might have done, but whatever. That they knew a Misfits song AT ALL...

I was about half way through the third bar when I realized that no one was singing. Duh! There were whole verses to this song! Ok, that kinda says how drunk I was right there, I was so into playing that I forgot...

I was the only Misfit up on stage.

I was the only Misfit in the bar, in the whole state, period! I'd dumped them cold and split, simple as that.

"Think you boys got it?" I glanced back at the band, leering at them as I spoke into the mic. Good save, make it seem like I planned it this way and maybe it wouldn't seem so weird that I'd forgot I was supposed to be singing lead since Pizzazz wasn't here to do it. "From the top. Hit it!"

This time I remembered to sing. Love this song, love how the music feels when my fingers move over the strings, the rhythm of it, everything... Damn, I was so drunk! I think I'd had like three beers and god knows how many tequila shots. But by the way the crowd at the bar was screaming, I must have sounded good. Pizzazz and I have kinda similar voices, pretty close in range, anyway, so didn't have any trouble hitting all the high notes. Didn't even feel funny singing her part and not back up. Felt good, for a change. It felt really damned good. The sound of the crowd left me feeling like a giant...

We nailed the ending of the song and I stood there, breathless and laughing. I turned and smiled back at the band impulsively, appreciatively. The guys were all nodding and looked... I don't know what that look was, impressed maybe.

"Think you got it in ya to do another one?" I asked the guys in the band. Before any of them could answer I looked out over the audience. "You turkeys want more?"

The crowd screamed, whooped and hollered and for a second I thought we were back at the World Hunger Shindig. Er, thought that I was, anyway.

"You know anything by Jem and the Holograms?"

My mouth must have hit the floor. "Who said that!" I grabbed the mic and peered at the audience.

A chubby middle aged guy in a flannel shirt and faded blue jeans stepped up close to the little stage. "That'd be me!"

"You said that? You want ME to play something by the Holograms?" I snorted and looked at him like he was insane.

"Well sure, ma'am. You got a real pretty voice, bet you'd sound great if you sang 'Like a Dream' or 'Twilight in Paris'," he said.

I was shell shocked. Totally, utterly speechless for about thirty seconds. And then I was furious. Chucked the borrowed guitar off and tossed it aside like a moldy chunk of bread and dove of the stage at the guy. "Why you freakin' little twerp! I oughta--"

"And stay out! I ever catch you around here again, I'm callin' the sheriff!" The bouncer said, clapping the dust off his hands. Big burly bald guy in shiny new boots.

"Loser! Creep! Don't you know who I am! I'm a Misfit! I'm famous!"

"Yeah? And I'm the Virgin Mary! Go home and sleep it off!" The big guy shot me a nasty glare and crossed his arms, stared me down.

I pulled myself up off the pavement, kinda laughing. It wasn't the first time I've been thrown out of a bar-- literally picked up and THROWN. The bouncer was standing there watching me like a stone cold statue, obviously waiting to make sure I walked away and didn't try to come back in.

"Whatever... asshole," I muttered and trudged off down the street, giggling to myself. Good going Roxy, I thought to myself. At least I didn't get arrested, it's not like I was TRYING to have a record in all fifty states or something.

Somewhere about five or ten blocks away I had a room at a hotel. I had a split lip and one hell of a buzz on but nothing that sleep wouldn't cure. I was still about a day or so away from Philly. By the time I got there my lip would be healed up, too, and if not I knew how to hide it with make up.

"You believe the nerve of that guy..." I grumbled, rubbing my jaw. That chubby Jem fan had one hell of a right hook, never saw it coming, not from a guy like that. Jem fans, go figure; bunch of freaks.

I walked back to the hotel, let myself in my rented room. Chucked my jacket down on the bed and caught a glance of my pale pink taffeta gown hanging in the open closet. Man, I was so glad I'd stopped to get a change of clothes or three before I'd sped out of L.A. like a bat out of hell. If I'd been out at that bar in that dress, it woulda been ruined. I'd always wanted a dress like that one. That was what I wanted to make my homecoming appearance in, people would remember that dress. I looked like a million bucks in it, I looked like a star.

With a sigh I looked at myself in the little bathroom mirror. My lip didn't look nearly as bad as it felt, which was good news. Made me grin, and then I laughed at what a mess I was.

"Stupid... stupid, stupid, stupid!" I took a deep breath and exhaled it in ragged little puffs. The thrill of the fight, the rush of being up on stage, all gone. I was in a drab little hotel room alone and the only friends I had were miles away and I'm all alone... Ok, maybe it was the all the booze getting to me, but suddenly I was upset and a little emotional.

I don't CRY. I'm not one of those girls who breaks into tears over the least little thing. But this wasn't just some little 'tiff' with the girls in the band that had me running back home, oh no... This was about my friends, my BEST friend humiliating me in public. On national TV! This was Pizzazz, teaming up with Jetta- who I can't stand!- and making me feel worthless. Pizzazz, who was supposed to be my partner in crime, you know?

I hated both of them, Jetta especially. No, I hated Pizzazz more, for picking that stupid British bitch over me. What the hell was so great about Jetta, anyway? She's a liar and a harpy and she played only the dumbest instrument ever... Ok, so she's smart and witty and sophisticated and dark and beautiful if your idea of pretty is Morticia... Pizzazz and Jetta together were vicious and brutal and when they turned that Misfit charm against me it made me feel so low.

I glanced up at my reflection, wiped away the teary streak of mascara. Maybe it served me right. Maybe this was just me getting a taste of my own medicine and maybe this is exactly what Stormer had felt like when she'd left the band. When we'd driven her away from the band. God, that was a trip to think about, because instead of it just being Pizzazz and Jetta jumping down her throat, I had been right there with them, and god KNOWS that I'm not any nicer...

I ran the faucet and splashed some cold water in my face. "Fuck it," I said sternly, pushing the Misfits out of my mind. There was no point wasting any time feeling bad about them. I wasn't a Misfit anymore. In another day I'd be home, in Philadelphia. Things would be different this time. They'd be better. For a change I was gonna be on top and nobody, but nobody, was gonna slow me down. I'd show them all that Roxanne Pelligrini was nobody's second best.


End file.
